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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830283">dead man, dead man</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro'>vtforpedro</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Credence Barebone Lives, Established Relationship, Functioning Alcoholic Original Percival Graves, Ghost Credence but not really, Implied Credence/Grindelwald but not really, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Original Percival Graves, Professor Albus Dumbledore, Some Humor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:08:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,875</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Percival Graves is haunted by the memory of Credence Barebone, a man he fell in love with before a dark wizard came along, and must find a way to free them both.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>dead man, dead man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Graves opens his eyes slowly, the morning sun beginning to brighten the room, his alarm clock every summer.<br/><br/>He looks in the corner of the bedroom, at an armchair and the figure that sits in it. They stare at each other for a while and Graves feels his heart ache, the way it’s been aching for over eight months now.<br/><br/>“I have to let you go,” Graves says.<br/><br/>“I think if you do I really might die.”<br/><br/>“You’re already dead,” Graves says and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the figure in the chair is gone, but his voice is on the air.<br/><br/><em> I’m real, Percy, I’m real </em><br/><br/>Graves ignores it, as he’s been ignoring it for months and gets ready for work.<br/><br/>In March of 1926, Percival Graves had met Credence Barebone.<br/><br/>He’d been at a no-maj restaurant with Fontaine, drinking shit coffee and eating even more shit food, but it was across the street from a speakeasy they were monitoring. Wizards selling firewhiskey and giggle water to no-majs for a very steep price and breaking the Statute wasn’t exactly uncommon, as much as Graves wished it was.<br/><br/>He was hoping the no-maj prohibition ended soon himself, merely so it saved him the headache.<br/><br/>Credence had been there, working behind the counter to handle the bills and hurrying around it whenever a table had left to clean it for the next patrons. Graves had found his eye drawn to him, a young handsome man he was, but there’d been something else about him too. Something Graves had been able to sympathize with.<br/><br/>Something that drew him back one day, alone.<br/><br/>Credence was polite, almost too much so, barely meeting anyone’s eye whenever he was spoken to, nervous despite the fact that he clearly knew what he was doing, so he wasn’t a new hire. But he’d talked to Graves that day, at the counter, when Graves was paying for a lackluster lunch.<br/><br/>He’d said his name was Credence Barebone, of Pike Street, and that he had taken this job, a few hours every day, to help pay for the upkeep of a church his mother ran.<br/><br/>Graves was familiar with the church. They had a file on it and its occupants in MACUSA, in fact, though he’d never looked into it himself, beyond letting his Aurors fill him in on anything interesting. There rarely was anything interesting about the church or the Barebones, but their insistence about witches being real and taking over the world one day kept them on MACUSA’s radar.<br/><br/>He asked Credence what he thought about witches and Credence had merely shrugged and said he preferred not to think of them at all.<br/><br/>Graves went back, until it became a place he was in at least twice a week, so he could talk to Credence. He was interested in a way he usually wasn’t and Credence was so scared sometimes, but he was interested too.<br/><br/>When he’d finally told Graves he knew he hated the food and could see him elsewhere, talk to him someplace they both might enjoy, Graves had laughed and happily taken him up on that offer.<br/><br/>Everything with Credence had moved faster after that. He’d tell Graves what he faced at home, when he couldn’t hide the cracked skin on his hands, and Graves wanted to interfere, but he couldn’t. There was nothing he could do but kiss Credence’s tears away and tell him he could leave someday, if he wanted, that he could find something better. But Credence was afraid to leave his sisters and Graves understood it, but he didn’t like it.<br/><br/>Sometimes they’d meet in alleyways, where kisses could be stolen out of the public eye, and sometimes Graves convinced Credence to come home with him, for a few blessed hours of freedom.<br/><br/>Over the months, Credence grew stronger, grew more sure of himself. He didn’t bend his head so much and he always met Graves’ eye when he spoke to him. He’d smile, wider and more carefree, even if he came to Graves with more wounds on his hands and back.<br/><br/>He was happier and so was Graves. It was forbidden to have relations with a no-maj, and it could lose him his job, but he hadn’t worried about that. It was easy to hide and easier to make love to Credence when he was only looking at him as <em> Credence </em> and not a man without a wand.<br/><br/>By late August, Graves was in love and Credence was nearing freedom. Was nearing being strong enough to break from his mother, the church, from Pike Street, was nearing being in Graves’ arms every night, where he’d never have to worry about anything. Never have to fear anyone ever again.<br/><br/>Neither of them knew what awaited them the first week of September. That there was indeed a devil and he walked the earth and he’d deemed time up for both of them.<br/><br/>If Graves had known kissing Credence the day before would be his last time doing it, he might have held on a little longer.<br/><br/>But Gellert Grindelwald had come and Graves had fought him, but he was powerful, not alone, and Graves’ life as he knew it that day had ended. He became a prisoner and Grindelwald stole his face, stole his memories, stole his place in MACUSA and stole his place at Credence’s side.<br/><br/>Graves wouldn’t know until nearly Christmas, when he was rescued from his prison, what had actually happened. What exactly Grindelwald did with his face, did with Credence, did <em> to </em> Credence.<br/><br/><em> Obscurial, </em> they said, extraordinarily powerful, but killed all the same, when they’d threatened the lives of wizards and no-majs and risked exposure.<br/><br/>Credence was twenty-six years old. Graves hadn’t wanted to believe it and how could he? It went against everything they knew about Obscurials. It went against everything he’d been confident of in himself. Magic so repressed, so hidden, that he couldn’t detect it, that he fell in love with the one who carried a beast inside, and that when he’d disappeared and a different person took his place, it had pushed the beast out.<br/><br/>And Credence had died because of it.<br/><br/>He’d been told the story in his hospital bed in St Lyptus’ by Tina Goldstein. Graves didn’t tell her about Credence, didn’t tell her he knew him, he loved him. How could he? How could he admit to anyone what he’d done to him?<br/><br/>The first time he’d seen Credence was in that hospital room. In between one blink and the next, he had been there, crouched in the corner of the room and weeping.<br/><br/>Graves had brushed it off as grief but Credence never left him after that.<br/><br/>He had briefly thought of telling the Healers that he was seeing him, sometimes at the end of his hospital bed or standing in the corner of the bathroom when Graves was shaving. That he disappeared if Graves ever looked directly at him.<br/><br/>But Graves wanted to return to work, didn’t want to be told something he would fear, didn’t want all of his success taken from him because his mind was broken. He’d left St Lyptus’ and hoped that he left Credence behind, but Credence was always there.<br/><br/>Sitting in front of the windows in the apartment, enjoying the view like he used to, watching Graves work late nights in his office, standing outside of MACUSA, the sun in his dark hair, disappearing when Graves couldn’t help himself and looked.<br/><br/>He’d hear his voice in his dreams and always forgot what he said by the time he’d wake, tears on his cheeks and his heart racing. The only thing he could hear was his name, echoing in his mind, said with a pleading and broken voice.<br/><br/>Graves hadn’t told anyone as winter passed into spring and Credence became sharper, clearer. He didn’t tell anyone when Credence said his name for the first time outside of a dream and he didn’t tell anyone when he felt a hand on his shoulder in the cafe that they used to go to not far from his apartment.<br/><br/>He was losing his mind, most likely, but if he told someone, if he went to St Lyptus’, they would make Credence disappear and he hadn’t wanted that. As much as Credence was haunting him, as much as he wasn’t letting Graves’ grief begin to lessen, to let him start healing, as much as it hurt to look at him, Graves hadn’t wanted him gone.<br/><br/>It was his fault Credence was dead and he had thought it must be some sort of penance.<br/><br/>Spring passed by and the world was fresher, alive and warm, and yet there was something cold directly in the center of Graves’ chest.<br/><br/>Sera asked him sometimes if he was alright and he would merely smile and say <em> of course </em> and wouldn’t look at Credence standing by the window behind her desk, smiling as he looked out of it, watching the city bustling below.<br/><br/>Credence had started to talk to him. He hadn’t disappeared when Graves looked at him anymore, but if Graves dared to answer him, he didn't linger long. He was gone again, only a shade, only a ghost, only a memory, and Graves decided that for the sake of his own sanity, he had to let Credence go.<br/><br/>He tried then. He didn’t look at Credence, he didn’t respond to him, not even when Credence begged for it, tears in his voice, disappearing with an anguished cry that would haunt Graves for the rest of his life, he suspected.<br/><br/>Graves begins to try to put the pieces back together when summer comes, to be who he was before, and it is easy enough.<br/><br/>It hasn’t even been a year since Grindelwald took him over and he’s training Aurors again and laughing with Sera and Fontaine, and brushing off their concerns about the dark rings under his eyes.<br/><br/>Tells them he was locked in a fucking cellar for months, they can’t expect him to be perfect, and is glad when they accept it.<br/><br/>Graves spends some time in the library or archives looking for an answer. To be rid of ghosts, shades, memories, and doesn’t find anything that gives him any relief.<br/><br/>There are things he could do besides see a Healer and he wants to do them, wants to use the spells, wants to try and bury Credence, to move on, so he can live his life again, but Credence only has to say his name and he is incapable of it.<br/><br/>Credence tells him often that he’s real, that he’s not dead, that he doesn’t know why he’s not, but he feels it. That he may not be whole, but he is not completely broken either, and he tells Graves it’s alright if he doesn’t believe that, because he wouldn’t either.<br/><br/>Graves looks for other types of books on those days and finds nothing but dark magic and dire warnings about raising the dead and doesn’t open them again.<br/><br/>So Graves tells Credence he has to let him go almost every day and Credence only tells him that he thinks he will really die if he does and Graves doesn’t know if his mind is playing tricks on him, but it’s agonizing each time he says it. This will ruin him someday, far easier than Grindelwald ever could, and as time steadily ticks toward August, he thinks he’s getting closer to losing his mind because Credence stays now when he speaks to him.<br/><br/>Credence touches him, runs his fingers through his hair, but Graves can’t touch him in return. The times he’s tried, that he’s dared to try, Credence disappears and doesn’t return for hours.<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand how his mind is capable of this, because it’s not magic. There is no magic that explains this. Ghosts and shades, yes, but nothing like this.<br/><br/>Nothing that allows Credence to laugh when Fontaine is sitting across from Graves at his desk and cursing everything from the junior Aurors to the weather to no-maj prohibition and for Fontaine to be completely unaware of him.<br/><br/>No one else is aware of Credence and it’s only proof that Graves’ mind is doing this to him, but he still can’t reach out for help. Can’t make Credence disappear, no matter how many times he tells him he has to let him go.<br/><br/>“I wish you believed I’m real,” Credence tells him one night, when he’s sitting in front of the windows and watching the Manhattan skyline, the moon high in the sky.<br/><br/>Graves is nursing a double of Pure Malt and looks at him. “I wish you were,” he says. “But you’re not real, Credence.”<br/><br/>Credence merely sighs, which is far better than the tears he had shed when Graves first told him that. “Magic is real,” Credence says. “Why can’t I be?”<br/><br/>“No magic can do this,” Graves says and takes a long drink of the whiskey.<br/><br/>“No magic was supposed to let me survive an Obscurus.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at his glass and doesn’t have anything to say to that. They’ve had this conversation before. He feels Credence’s eyes on him and doesn’t look back.<br/><br/>“I have to let you go,” he says and he’s used to the tears that cloud his eyes, but he wishes he could let those go as much as Credence. “I can’t grieve you properly and move on if you never go.”<br/><br/>Credence is quiet for a long time. “I don’t think that choice is mine,” he finally says and he’s wounded, hurt in a way Graves wants to take away, but he can’t because Credence is already dead and this is his mind playing tricks on him.<br/><br/>Graves looks at him then, sees the tears in his eyes and shakes his head. “I can’t live with your pain and mine too and expect to keep up with work. With my fucking sanity,” he says. “I have to let you go.”<br/><br/>“Then do it,” Credence says angrily. “Stop saying it and do it. You think I’m not real and that I don’t feel this pain too. Do it, end it for both of us then.”<br/><br/>Graves tips his head back on the sofa and brushes off his cheeks. “I’ll find a way,” he says quietly. Credence doesn’t say anything and when Graves looks at the windows, he sees that Credence is gone.<br/><br/><em> I’m only real because of you but I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I love you, Percy, even if you have to let me go. </em><br/><br/>It echoes in his mind and Graves finishes his whiskey and decides it’s time. It’s been nearly a year since a madman took over and destroyed his mind, destroyed Credence, and Graves cannot do this anymore.<br/><br/>He takes a leave of absence from MACUSA and Seraphina understands it, approves of it, for him to not get overwhelmed due to the time of the year it is, the first year, and he thanks her and leaves to find answers.<br/><br/>Not long after he’d left the hospital, he’d gone to Ilvermorny on the excuse of MACUSA business, and asked one of the ghosts there if they could see Credence, if they had an answer for him, and he’d only gotten a sympathetic smile and comments about how <em> the mind is strange sometimes. </em> Credence’s rude hand gesture might have been the only thing that kept him from bursting into tears that day. Not that they didn’t come later.<br/><br/>“I need to go to Europe,” he says aloud one night as he sits on his sofa.<br/><br/>“Our first vacation?”<br/><br/>“You’re staying home.”<br/><br/>“Home is where the heart is, Percival.”<br/><br/>Graves shakes his head and tips back his whiskey. Credence is on the other end of the sofa, not making a dip in it, staring longingly at the bookshelves. He can’t pick them up and read them the way he used to. He can only touch Graves and Graves has tried to force his mind into letting Credence enjoy reading, but he can’t seem to control any of this.<br/><br/>If he could, it would’ve ended a long time ago.<br/><br/>“There’s older magic there. People who understand it more. I’ll find someone who can tell me what I need to do.”<br/><br/>“To let me go.”<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t answer. He doesn’t say anything until he’s getting into bed that night, half drunk on whiskey and the other half of him screaming with an agony he can’t express.<br/><br/>“I love you,” he says as he lays in bed.<br/><br/>“I love you too,” Credence says from the corner of the room, soft and pained, and afraid for the first time in a long time.<br/><br/>Graves hasn’t said it aloud after all, not since before their lives were ruined, and he thinks it’s fitting for the beginning of a goodbye.<br/><br/>Goodbyes aren’t so hard if they’re said after <em> I love you </em> after all.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves arranges for transportation to London. He’s been to Europe a few handfuls of times over the years, to aid or request aid from different Ministries, but none will ever be as powerful as Britain’s Ministry of Magic.<br/><br/>When he arrives, the day hot and humid, unpleasant, he thinks Credence might have actually been left behind because he’s nowhere to be seen. Not for the entire day of getting to his accommodations and going to the Ministry, not through meetings with Aurors there and the Minister himself. It would be like Credence to grimace at all of this, but he’s not there.<br/><br/>Graves wonders if perhaps the separation of distance might have been all he needed after all. It’s enough to ruin him, just the thought of it, but he puts a smile on his face and works through the terror of possibly never seeing Credence again, something he hasn’t entirely prepared himself for.<br/><br/>“What’s brought you all the way to London, Director Graves?” Theseus Scamander asks him.<br/><br/>Graves is familiar with Scamander, has met him a few times, and they both seem to make it a point to not bring up the fact that continued correspondence between them had only occurred when Grindelwald was wearing his face.<br/><br/>“Took a leave of absence,” Graves says and ignores Scamander’s brisk nod of understanding. “There are some old cases I’d like to look into while I have the time. The library and archives here are certainly more extensive than they are in MACUSA.”<br/><br/>“I do hope you have a starting point,” Theseus says with some amusement. “They go on for ages. But please, help yourself. Unless there’s a direction I can point you in?”<br/><br/>“The supernatural, preferably.”<br/><br/>Theseus grimaces. “Ah, one of those cases,” he says. “Let me show you where you might find answers. It’s a broad area and you might not think to look in some places.”<br/><br/>Graves follows him down to the library and takes note of where Theseus says he can find various books and old tomes on supernatural beings or magic. When Graves asks about books on uncontrollable magic that aren’t the ones he’s already read, Theseus nods in understanding.<br/><br/>“Nasty business, wasn’t it?” he mutters as he leads Graves to a dark and dusty corner of the library. “I admit I’ve looked through a few of these myself. I don’t know how Newton got himself involved in what happened.” He looks at Graves warily but Graves only smiles because he can’t admit how involved he is himself.<br/><br/>“Though he’d had plenty of time to study an Obscurus, hadn’t he?” Theseus continues as he waves his wand at the top of the shelves until a few books float down toward them. “In that suitcase of his.”<br/><br/>“From my understanding he wasn’t able to parse much out from the one without its host,” Graves says as he takes a book and looks over the frankly disturbing illustration on the front of it.<br/><br/>Theseus hums. “I don’t think he was given much of a chance to apply any practical knowledge of it he had in New York. Not that I’m criticizing the response,” he says. “It had to be done, from my understanding, though I know my brother is still angry about it to this day. But from what he’s said, he thinks he might have been able to save the man if he’d been given time. If he’d found him before Grindelwald had.”<br/><br/>Graves watches him and his heart is beginning to beat a little harder. He hadn’t met Newt Scamander, he’d been banned from America swiftly after Credence had been killed, but Tina hadn’t mentioned a deeper understanding of Obscurials. Of course, he probably hadn't let her talk about Obscurials in front of him.<br/><br/>“Where is he now?” Graves asks with bored curiosity as he grabs another book.<br/><br/>“Oh,” Theseus says with a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips. “Gallivanting in Beijing or Rio, who knows.” He smiles when Graves raises his eyebrows. “Of course he could be in his townhouse, but we don’t keep up much, Newt and I.”<br/><br/>Graves merely smiles. “If it had gone a different way, I likely would have thrown him in MACUSA’s cells.”<br/><br/>Theseus laughs. “Well deserved, I’d think. For a time anyway. He’s harmless, but he doesn’t care much for the law if it interferes with his work. Never much cared for any rules, in fact,” he says but his smile is tinged with fondness. “Anything else I can help you find?”<br/><br/>“No, thank you,” Graves says as he waves his hand at the books, until they’re floating behind him. “This is a good place to start. Thank you, Mister Scamander.”<br/><br/>“Of course, Director Graves,” Theseus says. “If you’d like to hit a pub while you’re here, do let me know.”<br/><br/>“Will do,” Graves says and watches Theseus leave. He sighs and walks through the library until he finds a well lit table, the books falling quietly into a stack beside him.<br/><br/>He taps his fingers on the table without opening them and thinks of Newt Scamander instead. Newt, who might have some kind of deeper understanding about Obscurials than he’d thought. Newt, who carried one around in his suitcase for who knows how long. Newt, who’d tried to save Credence.<br/><br/>Graves puts his head in his hands.<br/><br/>“Please tell me you’re not going to the pub with that man.”<br/><br/>Graves only flinches slightly and looks up at Credence, who is sitting on the edge of the table and frowning down at one of the books.<br/><br/>No encounters with freedom yet then, Graves thinks grimly as he watches him, but there is an immense amount of relief in him all the same. Credence looks at him then and his eyes soften and he smiles.<br/><br/>“I think it took a while to recover from the portkey,” he says and the apology in his voice is nearly too much to bear. “Sorry to give you any hope.”<br/><br/>Graves looks down at the books and shakes his head. “Hope isn’t what I feel, Credence,” he says quietly.<br/><br/>It’s not. Perhaps he’d felt relieved, for a moment or two, but the fear had settled in. The fear that Credence was gone, gone for good, never to be seen or heard again. Graves only hopes to give his mind some peace, but he could never hope to be rid of Credence himself.<br/><br/>“I know,” Credence says, soft and sad, so like he was when they’d first met. “But you’re getting closer. I think we both know that.”<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t answer and runs his hand through his hair as he stares down at the books. He rests his hand over the cover of one and Credence’s hand gently presses against his. It’s the most agonizing thing about this, Graves thinks, that his touch feels so real, but he knows it’s not.<br/><br/>That when he tries to turn his hand to hold Credence’s, he will only disappear. A punishment, to not be able to touch him, to not be able to comfort him the way he still offers Graves comfort.<br/><br/>He looks up at Credence again and Credence’s eyes are bright, like he’s thinking the same thing.<br/><br/>He would be, as he’s only part of Graves’ mind.<br/><br/>“I love you,” Graves says and turns his hand before Credence can respond and watches him disappear. Tears sting at his eyes and he blinks them away before standing. With a wave of his hand, the books follow him up to the front of the library.<br/><br/>It takes a little convincing that he’s here on Auror business for the librarian to let him check out the books, but she eventually does. Graves shrinks them when he’s out of the library and strides off to find someone to bully into giving him Newt Scamander’s address.<br/><br/>He doesn’t see Credence until he’s in his hotel room that night, lying in bed and watching rain hit the windows, the hot, sticky humidity finally breaking to allow cool rain to fall. Credence appears then, looking out of the windows as well.<br/><br/>Graves knows he’s hurt but they both are. He can’t keep doing this to himself and he can’t keep letting Credence’s memory do this to him.<br/><br/>“I’ll miss you,” Credence says. “Wherever I go after. I don’t believe in heaven or hell anymore but maybe there’s something different for witches and wizards. Maybe I’ll see you there one day.”<br/><br/>Graves closes his eyes briefly and rubs at them, to stave off the tears he can never seem to keep in when Credence is around. He looks at him after a few moments.<br/><br/>“Me too, love,” he says. “I’ll tell you all about this.”<br/><br/>“As if I won’t remember,” Credence says softly. “As if I’m not real and right here in front of you.”<br/><br/>Graves shakes his head. “You’re not,” he says. “If you were real and in front of me, I would be able to touch you. I haven’t touched you in a year now, Credence.”<br/><br/>“I know,” Credence says and looks at Graves. “I wish you could. Maybe you’d believe me then.”<br/><br/>“If I start believing what you have to say, I’m going to lose my mind. I’m going to lose everything I’ve built for myself. I wanted you to be a part of that but you’re gone, Credence. I have to let you go.”<br/><br/>“I’m real, Percy,” Credence says but there’s no conviction in it anymore. He moves closer to the bed until he climbs onto it and he doesn’t even rustle the sheets. “Maybe you’d keep looking for ways to save me like you did at the beginning if you believed me.”<br/><br/>“There’s no magic that can do this,” Graves says, what he’s always said to this argument. He moves onto his side and looks at Credence, achingly beautiful in the moonlight, the way he always has been. “I would have found it by now.”<br/><br/>Credence brushes a few of his tears away and Graves doesn’t dare reach for him, not ready to see him go yet.<br/><br/>“You can’t know every magic that exists.”<br/><br/>“It’s my job to know rare magic, Credence.”<br/><br/>“Rare dark magic.”<br/><br/>“No, rare magic, whether it’s dark or not, because even magic used for good can still be used for evil. You’re only a memory.”<br/><br/>“You spend a lot of time arguing with only a memory.”<br/><br/>“I remember you well then, don’t I?”<br/><br/>Credence laughs and smiles after and his hand is close to Graves’ on the bed. “When you see Mister Scamander, tell him thank you. For trying to help me,” he says. “For showing me kindness when I was so afraid.”<br/><br/>“I will, love,” Graves says, because he will, even if it’s not in this exact way. “He regrets he wasn’t able to help still.”<br/><br/>“I heard Mister Scamander say that,” Credence says and smiles again. “The older one who wants to buy you a drink.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “It’s too bad I’m taken. Handsome, wasn’t he?”<br/><br/>Credence huffs a little. “I like his brother more. Don’t let him buy you a drink either though.”<br/><br/>“Tina might kill us both if I did.”<br/><br/>“Good, then we could all haunt her.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he watches Credence and thinks <em> I’ll miss you too, more than you’ll ever know. </em><br/><br/>“I love you,” is what he says.<br/><br/>“I love you too,” Credence says and runs his fingers through his hair until Graves is asleep.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves leaves the hotel after breakfast and though he is loath to take a damn taxi, he has no point of reference for Newt’s home. It’s not all that far away in the end and not quite what he was expecting when he gets out of the taxi.<br/><br/>It’s a yellow brick Victorian townhouse and he eyes it for a while before moving to the door and knocking a few times.<br/><br/>There’s no immediate answer and Graves knocks again, firmly.<br/><br/>“Yes, yes, yes,” he hears before the door is wrenched open and Newt Scamander stands in front of him, a bucket in his hands filled with what looks like dead eels.<br/><br/>He blinks once, then twice at Graves before he smiles. “Hello, Director Graves,” he says. “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the real you.”<br/><br/>When he holds out his hand to shake, Graves looks at the slime on it and back at Newt, raising an eyebrow.<br/><br/>“Oh, right,” Newt says. “I’m in the middle of feedings, my apologies. What can I do for you?”<br/><br/>Graves thinks he probably doesn’t want to be invited inside unless he wants to drag Newt to the Ministry and throw him in the cells there. “I have some questions for you about Obscurials.”<br/><br/>Newt raises his eyebrows. “Oh,” he says with a long sigh. “I see. Nasty business, wasn’t it? Well, I suppose you only heard after it all, but… nasty business all the same.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles shortly. “Indeed it was,” he says. “Do you have a few minutes to spare?”<br/><br/>“Of course,” Newt says. “But I do need to continue feeding them all, they’re very oriented to a certain schedule, you see. We’ll talk after. Come in, come in, please.”<br/><br/>Graves sighs but he walks inside and looks around a fairly normal English townhouse. But Newt leads him to the basement and into an Undetectable Extension Charm, just as illegal here as in America, the same reason he got banned from America to begin with besides the misplaced creatures, but Graves decides to simply ignore that.<br/><br/>The animals are impressive and distracting enough and Graves follows Newt as he feeds them, rambling here and there about them, peering at Graves now and then too with more perception than his elder brother has.<br/><br/>When he’s finally done feeding them, he takes Graves back upstairs and gets a pot of tea made before they sit at his small kitchen table.<br/><br/>“And of course Aurors do tend to make a mess out of things,” Newt is saying as he pours tea into a couple mugs. “No offense meant.”<br/><br/>“None taken,” Graves says dryly. “Things would have gone differently if Grindelwald was never involved.”<br/><br/>“Oh, yes, I imagine so,” Newt says. “Poor man could have been saved. Could have been saved if Aurors hadn’t come in wands blasting,” he adds with some bitterness. “If only I could have explained my experience with Obscurials before then.”<br/><br/>Credence appears then, just behind Newt, leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He’s smiling softly, but his eyes are pained and Graves looks at Newt.<br/><br/>“How might you have saved Mister Barebone?”<br/><br/>“An extraordinary person, don’t you think? To live to the age he did, an Obscurus simmering below the surface. He’d still be alive if it had gone my way,” Newt says. “What strength he had in him. I believe that was the answer to saving him. His own strength to stay alive while the Obscurus might have been removed from him. It would have been difficult, but I’ve looked into some things since last year and I think I could have done it. Tricky magic but…” He shrugs as he peers at Graves. “Is your interest merely a scholarly one?”<br/><br/>“I haven’t found another one, if that’s what you’re asking,” Graves says with a smile. Newt smiles as well and sips his tea. “Obscurials are rare and even though you had the chance to study one, it was without its host. I wonder if there’s magic in them that we don’t know yet.”<br/><br/>“Hopefully we never will,” Newt says. “Although some preparedness is never a bad thing, in my experience. I imagine an Obscurus could certainly perform magic that we don’t know yet. Credence might have shown us, if he’d had the chance.”<br/><br/>“What magic do you think uncontrollable magic might have had in it?”<br/><br/>“It’s impossible to say,” Newt says thoughtfully. “But it’s interesting to me that it’s a separate entity altogether from its host and yet it cannot do anything without one. Extreme power and yet its host is typically very fragile.”<br/><br/>“Do you think Credence’s Obscurus might have survived if it had been separated from him?”<br/><br/>Newt hums as he takes a drink of his tea, peering at Graves with interest. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly. “Not indefinitely. For a short time, perhaps, the power in it, but it’s a parasite all the same. I’ve been writing in my journals whenever I have thoughts about it and I do remember asking myself if it might jump to a different host, if it had the opportunity to. But it was Credence’s own pain, his own agony and the abuse he alone suffered, so I think not.”<br/><br/>Graves takes a drink from his own tea and looks at Credence, who looks resigned to hear about himself this way, but curious nonetheless.<br/><br/>“They told me that the Obscurus was destroyed very thoroughly,” Graves says. “You seem to agree with that. Tina told me you hoped part of him survived but not long after you seemed to accept he was gone.”<br/><br/>Newt doesn’t respond for a while and when he does, he speaks carefully. “I thought I might have seen part of him escape the underground. But we heard nothing of him and we’ve heard nothing of him since.”<br/><br/>“What do you mean? Part of him?”<br/><br/>“Part of the Obscurus, rather,” Newt sighs. “But I think it merely disappeared like the rest of it had and that was the end of Credence Barebone as we knew him.”<br/><br/>“I only remember the subway,” Credence says quietly. “And then seeing you in your hospital bed. I don’t think any of me escaped that place.”<br/><br/>Graves sighs as he looks at the mug. “I imagine Credence would have been very thankful that you tried to help him. That you showed him kindness when he was rarely shown that in his life before,” he says as he looks at Newt. “He only ever deserved to be treated well.”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Newt agrees softly. “As all people do. And yet so many suffer like Credence did.” He peers at Graves with a small smile. “You say his name like you knew him.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles wryly. “It felt like something I should do, looking into him, when I got back to work. After what Grindelwald did to him while wearing my face. No one else in MACUSA beyond Tina seemed to give a damn.”<br/><br/>Newt smiles, pained. “Yes, it does seem like the whole matter was swept under the magic carpet, as they say,” he says. “Quite amazing that he was able to hold it in as long as he was.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence then and sighs, gently. “He was remarkably strong. You would think any witch or wizard that walked by him would have been able to sense that sort of strength.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles. “Not even you, Percy, with how repressed it had gotten. I’ve told you that before.”<br/><br/>“If he’d been holding it in that long, I imagine he was very skilled at it, without even knowing he was doing it,” Newt is saying. “I would have liked to have met the Credence he would have been if he’d survived it.”<br/><br/>“So would I,” Graves says quietly and finishes the tea.<br/><br/>“Are you only visiting Europe to ask about Obscurials?” Newt asks curiously.<br/><br/>“I took a leave of absence from MACUSA,” Graves says. “This time of the year will be difficult for me for a while, I imagine.” He smiles shortly. “I thought I’d try to find some peace while I have the time.”<br/><br/>Newt nods. “Yes, I imagine you would. Although asking about Credence can’t be very peaceful for you.”<br/><br/>“He does seem to haunt me wherever I go,” Graves says with another smile. “Thank you for your time, Mister Scamander.”<br/><br/>“Of course, Director Graves,” Newt says and stands. He walks Graves to the door and opens it before offering his hand. “You are a much more pleasant man when you aren’t sentencing myself to death.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles, unable to help it. “The people who would have carried through with that have been fired, if it’s any consolation,” he says as he shakes Newt’s hand.<br/><br/>“Just a bit,” Newt says with a smile. “Do you need any help getting back to where you’re staying?”<br/><br/>“No, thank you,” Graves says as he steps outside, looking up at the dark sky above. “Good afternoon, Mister Scamander.”<br/><br/>“Good afternoon,” Newt says and closes the door.<br/><br/>Graves sighs as he walks down the cobblestone street, familiar enough with the hotel that he knows he can Apparate to it. Before he’s gotten the chance, he hears a door slam behind him and glances back at Newt, who is hurrying toward him.<br/><br/>“Not <em> actually </em> haunting you, is he?” Newt asks.<br/><br/>Graves blinks at him and raises an eyebrow. “No,” he says slowly.<br/><br/>“It’s only that you seem quite familiar with Credence, you see. And your choice of words. And the way you kept looking over my head, like someone else was behind me,” Newt says and it’s with nothing but polite curiosity, but Graves is beginning to feel on edge.<br/><br/>“Don’t you dare lie to him,” Credence says from over his shoulder. “He believes I’m here and he doesn’t even know the truth.”<br/><br/>Graves shakes his head. “Forgive me, Mister Scamander, it’s been a long year,” he says. “I’m still waiting for life to return to normalcy.”<br/><br/>Newt nods as he peers at Graves. “Of course,” he says. He holds up a finger before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wand. “It’s only that… when you come across someone who clearly is being haunted in some way, it becomes recognizable.”<br/><br/>Before Graves can pull his own wand, Newt points his over his shoulder and twirls it. A small jet of golden magic bursts from the tip and Graves whirls around to look at Credence.<br/><br/>Credence is frowning and doesn’t look any different, touching his chest before looking up at Newt and Graves.<br/><br/>“What did you do to him?” Graves asks roughly.<br/><br/>“Nothing,” Newt says. “Only a cleaning charm, wasn’t it? Just confirming my suspicions.”<br/><br/>Graves turns to look at Newt and stares at him and finds that he is speechless, in the way he so rarely is.<br/><br/>“Don’t punch him,” Credence says gleefully behind him.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves finds himself back in Newt Scamander’s townhouse, sitting on his dingy little sofa, his head tipped back against it. He’s rubbing his eyes as he drowns out whatever Newt is rambling about as he paces in front of Graves.<br/><br/>“Drink,” he mutters, for the third time.<br/><br/>“You’ll have to tell me everything, of course—”<br/><br/>“Drink.”<br/><br/>“When did it all <em> begin? </em> Perhaps I should take notes?”<br/><br/>“Drink!”<br/><br/>“Oh, right. Yes, let’s see. I do hope you like Pure Malt Whiskey, I keep it around for Theseus…”<br/><br/>Credence groans.<br/><br/>“A man of fine taste,” Graves says as he drops his hand and only winces a little when Credence hits his shoulder. He glances warily at Credence sitting next to him, the sofa untouched, but Credence looks as real as he always does.<br/><br/>Newt reappears after a moment and hands Graves a tumbler of Pure Malt. When Graves tips it back, Newt frowns and disappears again. When he’s back in the living room, he hands the bottle to Graves and he nods his thanks as Credence sighs at his side.<br/><br/>Graves sips the whiskey and sets it aside as he looks at Newt, who finally sits down in an armchair across from him. He looks far too delighted, like he’s found a previously undiscovered magical creature and is about to name and study it.<br/><br/>“I’m fairly sure I’m losing my fucking mind,” Graves says bluntly.<br/><br/>“I understand why you might think so,” Newt says. “But it’s only Credence you see, isn’t it?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Graves says. “What does that have to do with anything?”<br/><br/>“Well, no other dead loved ones made appearances, that’s always a good sign,” Newt says brightly.<br/><br/>Graves sighs and picks up the whiskey again. “I first saw him in the hospital, not long after I came out of the coma they put me in for a few days. Just a brief moment and he was gone. I thought I imagined it. But he’s stuck around,” he says and glances at Credence, who looks as delighted as Newt.<br/><br/>Graves is feeling far more pessimistic about this. It doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t feel like it’ll lead to anything but heartbreak, but he keeps that to himself for now.<br/><br/>“How long did you know Credence before Grindelwald came to America?” Newt asks.<br/><br/>“Almost six months,” Graves says and it pains him to think they truly had so little time together. They’ve spent more time together after Credence’s death than they had in his life. “I met him in March and Grindelwald ambushed me the first week of September.”<br/><br/>“Yes, I do believe Tina mentioned that’s when it happened,” Newt says and hums curiously. “You were… seeing each other?”<br/><br/>Graves doesn’t answer, merely takes another drink of whiskey, and Newt frowns, a little too pityingly for Graves. He’s still tempted to take a swing at him, but Credence’s hand is on his thigh and he finds he can do nothing more than glare at Newt warningly.<br/><br/>“I think it just goes to show, Director Graves, the immense strength Credence had in him to hide his magical blood from even someone as talented as you. But clearly you were drawn to each other despite it,” Newt says. “Ah, Credence, if I may… do you recall anything from between the subway and appearing in Director Graves’ hospital room?”<br/><br/>It’s the most bizarre thing Graves has ever experienced, he thinks, to watch Newt look at the sofa, a little off from where Credence actually is, fully believing he’s there, and knowing he has to answer for Credence. It would make him laugh if he wasn’t so damn close to losing it.<br/><br/>“Umm… no,” Credence says and seems to feel rather the same way. “It was very dark and my thoughts weren’t… they were abstract. I remember opening my eyes and seeing Percy in the hospital bed and I started crying, because I realized no one else could see me. Then it was dark again.”<br/><br/>Graves squints a little. “He says it was dark and he only had abstract thoughts. His first moment of awareness was in St Lyptus’ and he realized no one could see him,” he says. “We weren’t capable of speaking to each other for some time,” Graves clarifies when Newt frowns. “If I looked directly at him, he’d disappear. Eventually he stopped disappearing. He started talking one day. If I tried to talk to him, he’d disappear. Now… now he can freely touch me but if I touch him…”<br/><br/>“He disappears,” Newt says slowly. “Fascinating. He’s becoming more whole with you and yet no one else can see him still. Would I be able to see him touch you?”<br/><br/>“No,” Graves says with a wary look in Credence’s direction. “Credence tried that out shortly after we learned he could touch me. I can see him flick my collar but no one else can.”<br/><br/>“And you can’t interact with the environment at all?” Newt asks Credence. Or a few inches to the left of Credence anyway.<br/><br/>“No,” Credence says glumly. “I don’t fall through the bed or sofa but I don’t feel it either. I can’t pick up objects.”<br/><br/>“No,” Graves says to Newt. “He’s sitting next to me and he can’t feel the sofa. He can’t pick up any objects at all.”<br/><br/>“But you can interact with Director Graves,” Newt says and leans back with a frown. “Peculiar, isn’t it?”<br/><br/>“You’re fucking telling me,” Graves says and takes another drink of the whiskey. “I looked for months. For magic like this. I couldn’t find anything. I looked for magic to disperse spirits, some I already knew, but… well, I didn’t find any answers there,” he says hoarsely. He hadn’t tried any, of course. “I came here in hopes of finding an answer.”<br/><br/>“To bring Credence back?” Newt asks with a soft smile.<br/><br/>Graves looks down at the glass and feels shame burning in his gut. His eyes sting and he squeezes them shut for a while. “Please understand, Mister Scamander, that I have never heard of this magic and assumed what Grindelwald had done to me damaged my mind,” he says as he looks at Newt. “He tells me he’s real, that he knows he is, and I can find no proof of it.”<br/><br/>“Besides me sitting right here next to you,” Credence says, but he’s not angry. “I’m sorry I’ve been causing you so much pain, Percy.”<br/><br/>“We’ve been causing each other pain,” Graves says quietly and shakes his head, tipping back the whiskey and setting the glass aside.<br/><br/>Newt is quiet for a while. “I don’t believe Credence is only the result of your mind, Director Graves,” he says. “I’ve never heard of this magic either but this is not some… form of psychosis.”<br/><br/>“I never sought out treatment for psychosis.”<br/><br/>“And yet, even if you had, Credence would still be by your side.”<br/><br/>“And how can you be so sure about that, Mister Scamander?”<br/><br/>Newt hums. “I do believe I saw a piece of Credence escape the subway that night. I believe my first instinct was correct all along,” he says slowly. “I believe that part of Credence, the last bit of him left, found you.”<br/><br/>Graves stares at him for a while. “How?”<br/><br/>“You and I wondered what sort of magic an Obscurus might have, outside of its host,” Newt says. “Perhaps this is a part of it. Credence was aware that the Percival Graves he knew was no longer you that night, I assume?”<br/><br/>This is territory that’s hard for both of them to talk about. They’ve mostly avoided it, because Graves can hardly bear the thought of Grindelwald touching Credence, and Credence always starts to tremble if they get close to this conversation and Graves can’t hold him through it, can’t comfort him.<br/><br/>“I knew for a while before that last night. Weeks, actually,” Credence says quietly. “I knew something was different from the beginning but it wasn’t until he started telling me I was a wizard and demanded I help him find a child that I realized something had gone wrong.”<br/><br/>Graves breathes in deeply and closes his eyes before looking at Newt. “He was aware for some time before that night, yes.”<br/><br/>“Then perhaps he went to search for you,” Newt says. “We know the Obscurus is a separate entity but it was still created by Credence. It was his despair embodied. Perhaps it was conscious enough to take him to you.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence, who is chewing his lip, tears in his eyes, and looks at Newt again. “Are you saying his Obscurus found a new host in me?”<br/><br/>Newt smiles, just a little. “Not quite,” he says. “I think the Obscurus was dying and its last remaining energy brought Credence to you.”<br/><br/>“I don’t feel it anymore,” Credence says as he looks at Graves. “I’ve told you that.”<br/><br/>“He’s told me he no longer feels the Obscurus,” Graves says hoarsely. “I assumed it was because they were both dead. If I’m some sort of host to Credence himself, what does that make Credence?”<br/><br/>Newt frowns for a while. “I don’t know,” he says. “But I don’t think it makes him a ghost. I don’t think it means he’s dead or beyond saving. I never did believe you were beyond saving, Credence.”<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says and swipes at his cheeks, looking away from Graves.<br/><br/>Graves feels the shame in his gut widen and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Credence,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”<br/><br/>“It’s okay,” Credence says and sniffs. “I don’t know if I would have listened to you either, if I was in your shoes.”<br/><br/>Graves aches then, aches to reach out and touch, to rest his hand over Credence’s, but he knows he’ll just disappear and won’t come back for hours. It’s a constant hole right in the middle of him, nearly a year without touching Credence, but nearly nine months with him at his side and still untouchable.<br/><br/>“I don’t know how to fix this,” Newt announces with some bravado that seems misplaced considering his words. “But I do know someone who might. Someone who understands magic far better than I ever will. Someone that even has some experience with Gellert Grindelwald, from my understanding.”<br/><br/>Graves and Credence stare at Newt and ask together, “Who?”<br/><br/>“Albus Dumbledore, of course.”<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>Graves knows of Albus Dumbledore. He’s an accomplished wizard, well known to Ministries and MACUSA, and a professor at Hogwarts. He’s never met the man himself and he doesn’t know what experience he has with Grindelwald, but from the way Newt talks about him, he’s willing to meet with him.<br/><br/>If he could possibly have answers for them, Graves would be willing to go to the ends of the world to find them.<br/><br/>Term at Hogwarts starts in only two days, which Newt declares to be some sort of fate, that Graves has shown up in Britain at just the right time.<br/><br/>He and Credence stay for a while that day, until Graves doesn’t have the energy to keep fielding conversations between Credence and Newt, and goes back to his hotel.<br/><br/>Graves orders a drink in the hotel lounge and takes it to his room. He sits on the bed, pressed back against the headboard and knows he won’t be sleeping well tonight. There’s too much to think about, too many worries, and Credence is excited, rambling about things Newt had said.<br/><br/>He wants to ask him to stop because Graves can hardly stand it. Dumbledore might have answers for them but they might not be answers they’ll like. It might be what Graves has feared all along. That Credence is merely a shade of himself, that he’s gone, not to be saved.<br/><br/>That he might be offered a way to let him go, rather than have him as a companion for the rest of his life that he can never touch. Graves knows this will eventually take its toll on Credence, but he doesn’t think Credence has thought about that yet. That he might never be able to interact with the world, to talk to anyone but Graves, to never be able to touch a book again.<br/><br/>Graves rubs his temple and nurses his whiskey and is glad when Credence falls silent, staring out of the windows of the hotel.<br/><br/>“I know you’re afraid, Percy,” Credence says after a while. “I am too. But if you’re not going to have any hope, I have to be the one to have some.”<br/><br/>Graves winces and finishes his drink. “I have hope we’ll eventually find an answer.”<br/><br/>“Not a good one though.”<br/><br/>Credence knows him too damn well, Graves thinks as he stares down at his empty glass. But then, this has been built in him for longer than Credence has been alive.<br/><br/>“I’ve never had hope for anything good, Credence,” Graves says. “I learned not to when I was a child and it was a good thing, because you can’t have any hope as an Auror either. You have to expect the worse to be prepared for it or the job will eat you alive.”<br/><br/>“This has nothing to do with your job,” Credence mutters. “You say it like I didn’t learn the same thing when I was a child.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence and knows that’s true. Knows that Credence suffered all the way up until he met Graves and got a brief respite from it, until Grindelwald had come along and ruined it all over again. That he learned to never have hope too.<br/><br/>“I don’t want to see you hurt if we don’t find an answer we like,” Graves says quietly. “Your heart has been broken enough over the last year.”<br/><br/>Credence shrugs and looks at Graves. “So then I’ll have the hope that you don’t that we will find an answer we like. That we fix this and life will change for the better. This man… Dumbledore, Newt said he has an answer for everything. We’ll see him in less than three days.”<br/><br/>“We will,” Graves agrees. “I’m sorry, love. You know I’ll do anything I have to if it means making you whole again.”<br/><br/>“I know,” Credence says with a faint smile. “I’m just glad you didn’t try any of those spirit-banishing spells you were looking at for a while.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles, unable to help it. “Me too,” he says and sets his glass aside so he can lay down. “Go get me another drink, will you? So I can get some damn sleep tonight.”<br/><br/>“I wouldn’t even if I could,” Credence says with some amusement. “You drink too much.” He gets onto the bed next to Graves and sighs, reaching over to run his fingers through Graves’ hair. “I love you.”<br/><br/>“I love you too,” Graves says and closes his eyes, with only the faint hope that he might get some rest.<br/><br/>Faint hope is hope nonetheless, he thinks.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>They spend the next two days with Newt in his townhouse.<br/><br/>Credence is fascinated by the creatures, by the magic of the Undetectable Extension Charm, though it gives Graves a headache whenever he thinks about it. Newt is immensely talented himself, to create any of this to the extent he has, but he looks at the strange and bizarre animals and listens to the way Newt speaks about them and decides not to think of him as a deviant criminal.<br/><br/>Just a slightly bizarre man with a big heart for magical creatures.<br/><br/>And Tina Goldstein.<br/><br/>Graves plans to never stop teasing her about her choices in men after this.<br/><br/>Newt tells them about his time in Hogwarts, haltingly, with many holes in the story, Graves knows, but it’s not his business. He merely listens to his experience with Albus Dumbledore, a man that seems fond of Newt, for reasons Graves can understand, the more time he spends with him.<br/><br/>Credence drinks in anything he has to say, the way he drinks in the wizarding world whenever he’s with Graves, the way he always will, having missed out on it all.<br/><br/>Graves pointedly doesn’t think <em> for however long he’s here. </em><br/><br/>Newt had written to Dumbledore the night they met and Dumbledore has agreed to meet them at the castle, though Newt hadn’t said for what purposes.<br/><br/>They meet him at his townhouse on the morning of September 2nd and when Newt offers his arm with a smile, Graves sighs and takes it. Newt Disapparates out of London and to Hogwarts, a big enough jump, but nothing Graves isn’t used to.<br/><br/>The gates of Hogwarts remind him of Ilvermorny and yet there’s a different feel to this wizarding school. It’s far older, with more history and the hum of magic that surrounds it all is powerful, comforting in a way only a wizarding school can be. When the gates open and they step inside, Credence appears at Graves’ side, looking up at the castle with the same sort of awe he had at Ilvermorny.<br/><br/>It’s a pang of hurt in Graves’ heart, to know Credence never experienced his own magical education, and not for the first or last time, he feels a vindictive sense of satisfaction that Mary Lou Barebone is dead. It’s something that bothers Credence, he knows, that the Obscurus killed her, and Graves will never tell him he’s happy it did, because it would hurt him.<br/><br/>But all the same, the Obscurus did what Graves only wished he could, whenever he saw the fresh lashes on Credence’s back and hands.<br/><br/>Professor Dumbledore has agreed to meet them at ten in the morning due to a free period he has, in between classes, and Graves is only glad he agreed to meet at all on the first day of classes.<br/><br/>The caretaker meets them, mentioning that Dumbledore had asked him to escort them to his classroom, and they walk through the castle. Graves is a bit numb, he finds, and takes some comfort in the fact that Newt is clearly nervous to be here, for whatever reason, his squirming giving Graves a little peace of mind.<br/><br/>Credence merely looks like he’s stepped into a world of pure wonder and it makes Graves smile.<br/><br/>Students stare at them, but Graves is used to that, whenever he has to stride through the halls of Ilvermorny during term to meet with Headmistress Aurora.<br/><br/>The caretaker leads them to the Transfiguration classroom and after knocking, a man calls for them to enter and the caretaker opens the door and shows them inside.<br/><br/>Albus Dumbledore isn’t much older than Graves himself. He’s Transfiguring a sofa back into a table, likely from the first class of the day, and he turns to look at them, raising his eyebrows and smiling.<br/><br/>“Hello, Newt. Director Graves,” he says pleasantly as the caretaker closes the door behind them. Dumbledore raises his eyebrows and looks up at the ceiling. “And hello to whoever else has joined us today.”<br/><br/>Graves stares at him and wishes he had brought a bottle of whiskey along for this. His knees feel weak suddenly and he thinks he might need to sit down.<br/><br/><em> “See,” </em> Credence whispers with an undercurrent of excitement.<br/><br/>“Hello, Professor,” Newt says with a smile and shakes the man’s hand. “I thought you just might be able to help us with our little predicament.”<br/><br/>Graves is tempted to tell Newt there is no <em> our </em> and only <em> his </em> but he doesn’t, merely shakes Dumbledore’s hand with a short smile, meeting his eye as levelly as Dumbledore meets his.<br/><br/>“I am sorry for the trouble you faced in New York, Director,” Dumbledore says. “But it’s good to see you’ve recovered from it. Not many would have.”<br/><br/>“If you aren’t expecting your life to be turned upside down by a dark wizard every day, you don’t make for a good Auror,” Graves says. He doesn’t miss the odd flicker in Dumbledore’s eyes and the small, knowing smile. “Thank you for meeting with us.”<br/><br/>“Of course,” Dumbledore says. “Might I be introduced to my third guest?”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence, who is staring at Dumbledore with his lips parted, and there is hope shining in his eyes, brighter than it’s been in nearly a year.<br/><br/>“Credence Barebone,” Graves says.<br/><br/>“Ah,” Dumbledore says, his eyebrows raised as he looks at Newt. “As strong as we suspected then. Well, hello to you too, Mister Barebone. I suppose I should extend my apologies to you as well, for what you faced. You two have done a fine job of piecing things back together it seems.”<br/><br/>Graves raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “If you mean by developing an alcohol habit and being a host to a man that’s supposed to be dead, yes, we’ve done a fine job.”<br/><br/>“You had an alcohol habit before you even met me,” Credence mutters.<br/><br/>Dumbledore laughs. “I imagine all Directors of Magical Security or Law Enforcement experience that unfortunate side effect from their work, Mister Barebone.”<br/><br/>Graves does need to sit down. He moves to one of the tables and leans heavily against it as he looks at Credence, who is gaping at Dumbledore.<br/><br/>“You can hear me?” he asks, hushed.<br/><br/>“When you’ve spent a great deal of time among the dead or almost-dead, you tend to pick up what they have to say,” Dumbledore says and squints in the general direction Credence is. “You’re not quite like any of the others, Mister Barebone.”<br/><br/>“He’s not dead?” Graves asks and his voice is a little rough. “He’s alive?”<br/><br/>“I do believe so,” Dumbledore says consideringly. “Extraordinary, truly. But we already knew you were extraordinary, to live with an Obscurus well into adulthood. We’re lucky Mister Grindelwald missed that for so long. How did you find yourself attached to Director Graves?”<br/><br/>Credence bites his lip and shifts his weight. “I knew him before Grindelwald came along,” he says slowly with a glance in Graves’ direction. “We were close before he… before he did what he did to Mister Graves.”<br/><br/>“You recognized that he was different one day then, didn’t you?”<br/><br/>“Yes,” Credence says with some shame. “But I didn’t realize he was someone else entirely for over a month. When he told me I was a wizard and he needed help finding a child who was in pain. Neither of us realized I was who he was looking for and that the Obscurus came out because I realized something had gone wrong.”<br/><br/>“Our arrogance does tend to make us blind to what’s right under our noses sometimes, yes,” Dumbledore says with a faint smile. “As far as I’ve heard, you were killed in Manhattan that night. But you’ve been with Director Graves all this time?”<br/><br/>Credence nods. “I think so,” he says. “It’s changed, over time, how we’ve been able to interact with each other.”<br/><br/>Newt explains that to Dumbledore, because Graves can’t, can’t explain it all again, and he’s glad to let Newt handle it. To tell Dumbledore they suspect Credence’s Obscurus, with some conscious awareness of what Credence wanted, found Graves and attached itself to him. Killing the Obscurus, perhaps, but leaving Credence with Graves.<br/><br/>Graves watches Credence through it and desperately wishes he could touch him. Credence is paler than usual, nervous but still hopeful, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He looks at Graves after a while and something softens then and he moves to him, pressing his hand against Graves’ thigh.<br/><br/>“It’s okay, Percy,” he whispers with a smile but there’s brightness to his eyes, tears Graves wishes he could brush away.<br/><br/>But he merely smiles back. “I know, love,” he says quietly. He thinks it’s fitting Credence has been the one to comfort him through this, the way Graves comforted him through his life, until it all changed.<br/><br/>Graves looks at Newt and Dumbledore when he realizes they’ve fallen silent. Newt is looking at the ground and scratching the back of his neck but Dumbledore is peering at him with a small smile, something understanding in it.<br/><br/>Maybe not of the pain they’re both feeling, but something they’re both feeling all the same.<br/><br/>“If Credence is alive, how do we change this? How do we make him his own person?” Graves asks. “What do I need to do?”<br/><br/>Dumbledore moves to his desk and leans against it, his hands in his pockets. “The power of an Obscurus is not understood completely,” he says. “There will be no books that tell us how to make this right. But I think we can come up with something.”<br/><br/>Newt smiles. “You’ve some ideas then, Professor?”<br/><br/>“I always have ideas,” Dumbledore says with amusement. “Whether they’re good ones or not remains to be seen. I do have a full day ahead of me, I’m afraid.” He looks out of the window, at the bright day outside. “Perhaps something will stand out by the end of it. Do stay in the castle,” he adds when he looks at Graves. “We’ll talk more tonight. For now I have sleepy young minds to wake up after a long summer.”<br/><br/>“Thank you for your time, Professor,” Newt says. “And your help.”<br/><br/>“Always help to be found here,” Dumbledore says with a smile. He stands and offers his hand to Graves.<br/><br/>Graves stands as well and shakes it. “Thank you, Professor,” he says. He’s not entirely sure he trusts Albus Dumbledore, but he rarely trusts anyone, so it’s not a new feeling.<br/><br/>“Thank you,” Credence says and there’s some thickness to his voice. “Thank you very much.”<br/><br/>“Of course, Mister Barebone,” Dumbledore says. “A trip to the kitchens seems like it might be in order.” He winks at Newt. “Good day.”<br/><br/>They leave the classroom and listen to Newt explain the time he’d spent in the kitchens when he was a student. Credence listens anyway, laughing now and then, but Graves is lost in thought.<br/><br/>He feels guilty, suspects he always will, for not believing Credence. For writing him off as his own grief, for making them both suffer it for months, for trying to find ways to let him go. He’d seen how it hurt Credence whenever he said it, he’d felt that pain himself, and it was never necessary.<br/><br/>Graves knows that he was recovering, body and mind, from what Grindelwald did to him, but he’d let Credence suffer in the meantime and he’s not sure how he can apologize for it. How he can even reconcile it within himself, because there really was no excuse to let it happen, let alone for how long it has. He might not know this magic, none of them truly do, but he should have felt Credence was alive.<br/><br/>Should have known it was more than grief.<br/><br/>Should have been able to fight Grindelwald off to begin with and never let any of it happen.<br/><br/>There’s no alcohol to be had in the kitchens, though Graves does give the house elves a fright when he asks for a glass of whiskey, sarcasm flying over them as easily as it always does and they only look mildly less dubious when Newt hastily tells them he’s joking.<br/><br/>But they give them a comfortable place to sit and the pumpkin juice is good, though Graves fends off the variety of foods they offer because Credence is eyeing them with longing, no matter how resigned it is.<br/><br/>It’s a place away from the students, away from the portraits and ghosts, away from the madness of the real world for a while. Newt and a few house elves tell Graves about their history here, though they’re telling Credence without knowing it, and Graves watches him as he listens, smiling, as wide and carefree as he used to.<br/><br/>Whether they find answers here or not, Graves is glad that Credence is still experiencing the wizarding world, as he should have done a very long time ago. He’s glad to see his smile, the only thing that he thinks has been keeping him going for the last nine months, and does hope then that he gets to see it for the rest of his life.<br/><br/>Hope feels good, Graves decides, and he will thank Credence later for the wisdom he’s been sorely lacking.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>They take a walk around the grounds in the late afternoon to stretch their legs. The grounds of Hogwarts are by far larger than Ilvermorny, which sits at the peak of a mountain, and the sprawling grass and gleaming lake are beautiful sights. It’s not quite warm but it’s not cool either and Graves can imagine that the students of Hogwarts must love it here for the scenery alone.<br/><br/>He knows other wizarding schools in Europe are from a more barbaric time and haven’t changed much to fit modern comforts and he tells Credence this, while Newt chuckles in agreement.<br/><br/>Newt tells them about the giant squid and merpeople who live in the lake, though Credence doesn’t seem to believe him, looking at Graves suspiciously.<br/><br/>“You’ve seen his basement and you don’t believe him about this?” Graves asks lightly and smiles when Credence shrugs helplessly.<br/><br/>“Merpeople?” he asks. “Mermaids?”<br/><br/>“Not the mermaids of the no-maj world,” Graves says with a chuckle.<br/><br/>“Certainly not,” Newt agrees. “Far more prideful, but a very interesting people. There have been accidents over the years, of course, students half-drowning in the lake, but it’s the squid that rescues them versus anything else that lives below the water, if that tells you anything.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs at the grimace on Credence’s face.<br/><br/>Newt tells them about the road to Hogsmeade and the sorts of places that are found in the wizarding village. He speaks of everything with a certain distance, Graves notices, like he’s aware of all of this, knows it well, but didn’t participate as much as his classmates might have.<br/><br/>“I’d like to take Tina here someday,” Newt says as he squints in the sunlight. “I think she’d like it. Not her sister, though, she was very insistent that Hogwarts was hogwash compared to Ilvermorny.”<br/><br/>Graves smirks a little. “Nothing like a bit of wizarding school competition,” he says to Credence. “We’re all very sure of our own schools.”<br/><br/>“Sang the whole bloody song to me, you know,” Newt mutters. “Though I have to admit it’s slightly less silly than Hogwarts’ might be. But that’s part of the charm of it, isn’t it?”<br/><br/>“Frankly, I would be glad to never hear a school song again,” Graves says. “Designed to bring a sense of unity and keep morale up but it had the opposite effect on me.”<br/><br/>“That’s because you’re a stick in the mud,” Credence says. “You won’t sing it for me someday?”<br/><br/>Graves laughs. “I’ll let Queenie do that, you might understand what I mean after. Maybe Mister Scamander will sing you Hogwarts’ song instead.”<br/><br/>“No, no, no, thank you,” Newt says as he holds up his hands. “The only song I will sing for anyone is the mating call for my dear erumpent and only if she gets loose again.”<br/><br/>“You damn well better be sure that never happens,” Graves mutters and shakes his head when Credence grins. “You’re lucky Seraphina only banned you from America instead of sending you off to Azkaban.”<br/><br/>“Well, I was the only one in the room who recognized Grindelwald for who he was besides Credence,” Newt says. He pauses and coughs. “Of course, I’m sure they had their reasons.”<br/><br/>Graves laughs and it’s dry, but not bitter anymore. “I’ve been told he kept his distance from my colleagues. I suspect Grindelwald is not a man with a sense of humor.”<br/><br/>“You know, this was a very traumatizing time and day in my life,” Credence says just as dryly. “He really wasn’t though. Only bizarre humor.”<br/><br/>“Sorry, love,” Graves says with a smile as he looks at Credence. “You did as well as could be expected for the shitshow it was.”<br/><br/>Credence smiles. “If I had known what Polyjuice Potion was at that point, it might have actually felt good trying to kill him while he was still sweet talking me,” he says and sighs. “Glad I didn’t though.”<br/><br/>“I hope I didn’t upset you, Credence,” Newt says. “Director Graves is right. You’ve done so splendidly with all of this.”<br/><br/>“Tell him I’m fine,” Credence says. “I’m in Scotland at a wizarding school and hopefully going to be able to kiss you soon. And other inappropriate things.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “Mister Barebone is in good spirits,” he reassures Newt. “Prepared to do whatever is going to be asked of us.”<br/><br/>“Good!” Newt says. “Professor Dumbledore is a brilliant man. He’ll be Headmaster one day, if he’s not the Minister. Though I think he’ll remain here. It’s far more fitting for him.”<br/><br/>They eventually begin to circle the grounds and walk back toward the castle. The sun will set soon and dinner will be served, Newt says, which they can take in the kitchens while they await word from Dumbledore.<br/><br/>“What history does Dumbledore have with Grindelwald?” Graves asks.<br/><br/>Newt hums. “A personal one, I’ve gathered, that ended when they were younger,” he says quietly. “But I haven’t pried.”<br/><br/>Graves narrows his eyes at that. A personal relationship with Gellert fucking Grindelwald would normally make him a <em> suspicious person </em> to Graves but he’s willing to put that aside for now because he has far more pressing and important concerns. He imagines Dumbledore has been questioned by the Ministry if they know anything about the relationship and if they haven’t found a reason to do anything more than question him, it’s not something Graves is going to be doing himself.<br/><br/>Every one of them had a relationship with Grindelwald at some point, in their own ways, he realizes. Newt was sentenced to death by him, Graves was his prisoner, forced to listen to him talk about his plans, but most of all talk about Credence, withering him down to nothing more than a Cruciatus Curse ever could.<br/><br/>And Credence himself endured him for months. He’s never told Graves the extent of it and Graves isn’t sure if it’s for his sake or Credence’s. But Credence has never looked at him differently, no suspicion or distrust. He has only looked at Graves the way he always has.<br/><br/>Credence had known something was different, had eventually known Graves was not Graves, and he can only hope that he saved himself from the things Graves feared may have happened because of it.<br/><br/>He’s only ever been a figment of Graves’ imagination for so long and he feared Credence would confirm those things for him if he asked, but now that he knows Credence is alive, whole, real, separate from him, he will ask him one day so they might be able to work through it together.<br/><br/>Graves owes Credence immensely and he only hopes Credence stays by his side so he can give him all he’s ever deserved.<br/><br/>They walk into the castle and to the kitchens. It’s very English, Graves thinks, when they’re given plates filled with a variety of foods, but it’s made by house elves who are immensely talented cooks and he enjoys it, when he’s not feeling guilty about eating in front of Credence.<br/><br/>But Credence only sighs and declares <em> soon. </em><br/><br/>Once the students have gone to their common rooms past curfew and Graves is vaguely sure he’s in the beginnings of withdrawal, they get a message from Dumbledore to meet him in his classroom.<br/><br/>It’s not brightly lit when they enter, the windows covered by red and gold curtains, and as they approach Dumbledore’s desk, Graves sees a stone basin sitting on it that’s immediately recognizable. He frowns as he looks at the man himself, sitting at his desk and smiling pleasantly at them.<br/><br/>“Good evening, gentlemen,” he says. “I do believe I’ve struck just the right balance of theory and experimentation tonight.”<br/><br/>Graves raises an eyebrow. “With a Pensieve?”<br/><br/>“One of my very favorite magical objects, Director Graves, immensely useful, I’m sure you’d agree,” Dumbledore says. “This one has been passed down from Headmaster to Headmistress. Headmaster Dippet was kind enough to let me borrow it tonight.”<br/><br/>“How might a Pensieve be of service, Professor?” Newt asks curiously, a student all over again.<br/><br/>“Umm… <em> what </em> is a Pensieve?” Credence asks.<br/><br/>“Ah, the most important question so far,” Dumbledore says with a wide smile. “A Pensieve is a rare object, Mister Barebone. A stone basin, carved with these runes and set with precious gems, designed to hold thoughts and memories for later examination. Let me demonstrate.”<br/><br/>He pulls out his wand and holds it up before pressing the tip to his temple and pulling out a memory, silver and white, glowing as it hangs from the tip of his wand. Dumbledore gently drops it into the Pensieve, whose swirling silver mist brightens and he beckons them closer.<br/><br/>Credence leans over it and blinks down at the memory of them first walking into his classroom this morning. He stares at it for a while before looking around at Graves, gaping.<br/><br/>“You can take your memories out and watch them again and again?”<br/><br/>Graves smiles shortly. “Critically important in some cases. Some wizarding families have personal Pensieves for a variety of different reasons,” he says. “You can imagine how it might feel to relive memories with lost loved ones. Auror departments find them useful as well.”<br/><br/>“You never know what you might have missed the first time through,” Dumbledore says with a wink in Credence’s direction. “Newt has asked our second most important question of the night. How might the Pensieve be of service?”<br/><br/>“I wasn’t aware that Pensieves dealt in anything more than memories and thoughts, Professor,” Newt says.<br/><br/>“And as far as I’m aware, that’s all they do,” Dumbledore says, holding out his hands. “And yet, it came to me, when Mister Hollander was dearly wishing he could forget Transfiguring his goblet into a pin cushion in the shape of a certain type of moon. Memories! Thoughts and memories, put away for later or to be forgotten entirely. And this inspired another thought, very clever in my opinion, and I do believe we may just find out how practical my theory is with it.”<br/><br/>He abruptly stands and moves to the edge of his desk next to the Pensieve, gesturing at it. “Mister Barebone clearly exists in your mind, Director Graves,” Dumbledore says as he looks at Graves. “As thoughts and memories do. And yet he is alive and whole and of a sound mind himself! He is his own person, with his own thoughts and memories, with his own heart and soul, which as you all know can feel the effects of thoughts and memories as well as our own physical bodies can. I believe that Mister Barebone shares your mind, Director Graves, merely to stay alive, but that he is a separate entity entirely. Rather like his Obscurus.”<br/><br/>Graves watches Dumbledore as he speaks, crossing his arms. “You believe extracting him like a memory will separate us then?”<br/><br/>“Precisely,” Dumbledore says brightly. “Extracting Credence the way you would a memory, but with everything that Credence is. With the living breath he breathes and the soul of him, still so beautifully his own.”<br/><br/>“How the hell am I supposed to find Credence as a person in my mind rather than Credence as a memory?” Graves asks. “How can I know I’m extracting him and not something lesser?”<br/><br/>“Fortitude, Director Graves,” Dumbledore says. “Fortitude and the belief that it will work. I imagine you can feel Credence to a certain extent, despite his being a separate entity. You feel his presence, do you not?”<br/><br/>Graves frowns as he looks at the Pensieve, then Credence. “I feel his presence when he’s with me, yes,” he says quietly. He smiles faintly when Credence looks at him, wide-eyed and hopeful, albeit confused, which Graves can’t blame him for. “I think all of us in this room know a little something about fortitude as well.”<br/><br/>“And that sometimes merely the <em> belief </em> that something will work ensures that it does,” Dumbledore says with a smile for Credence.<br/><br/>He’s much more accurately focused on where Credence is standing now, but Graves ignores that for the time being.<br/><br/>“It’s possible it won’t work the first time, of course,” Dumbledore says. “But that hardly means it won’t work the second or the third. I rather think after nearly a year apart that you both are quite ready to be together again and so I will say this: <em> concentrate with all your might. </em> Director, you must concentrate on parsing out Credence from yourself. Credence, you must concentrate on <em> letting </em> him do this because you may feel it, if my theory is correct. Do you understand?”<br/><br/>Credence nods slowly. “Yes, sir,” he says, hushed.<br/><br/>“I do,” Graves says when Dumbledore looks at him.<br/><br/>“Excellent,” Dumbledore says. “Newt! Do you see any holes in my theory? Any questions that I might not have thought of?”<br/><br/>Newt coughs a little. “What might we do if Director Graves is able to extract Credence and yet not… retrieve him?”<br/><br/>“A very good question,” Dumbledore says. “Which leads into the second part of my theory. You <em> will </em> have to retrieve Credence from the Pensieve, Director. I imagine this might be of some difficulty merely because Pensieves are not known to hold or release entirely put together people rather than only the memory of them. So what shall we do if you extract Credence and you cannot retrieve him?”<br/><br/>“If that’s a possibility, then we need to examine this with much more depth,” Graves says firmly. “I’m not risking losing him to a Pensieve.”<br/><br/>“I could, umm… I could be lost in there?” Credence asks and points at the bowl, faintly glowing silver.<br/><br/>Dumbledore shakes his head. “Stuck is how I would put it. Not lost, always able to be found and seen, but stuck,” he says as he looks at Credence. “But it isn’t up to you to get out. That will lie solely with Director Graves, as you will be coming from his mind and only he has control over what he places in the Pensieve.”<br/><br/>Graves rubs his hand over his chin as he stares down at the Pensieve and frowns. “And if I have difficulties retrieving him?”<br/><br/>“Difficult does not mean impossible,” Newt says with a somewhat pained smile. “I rather think that the way you two have been able to interact more over time shows that you both have immense strength, especially for each other. When you go into the Pensieve and meet Credence there, I imagine the last piece of the puzzle will fall into place.” He smiles more genuinely. “The ability to return his touch.”<br/><br/>Dumbledore smiles at Newt and looks prepared to reward him ten House points. “Excellent, Newt. Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he says as he looks at Graves. “I don’t have the answer for what will bring him out of the Pensieve. I believe you two will find the answer yourselves while you’re in there.”<br/><br/>Graves sighs, long and slow and looks at Credence. He’s biting his lip, curling and uncurling his hands into fists, as he’s always done when he’s nervous. Graves wants to reach for him but he can’t. Not at the moment. Perhaps if Dumbledore’s theory holds any water, he will be able to very soon. And, Graves thinks wryly, his theory holds plenty of water.<br/><br/>It makes sense, what he’s proposing, and Graves has experience with Pensieves, with wandering memories of his own or someone else’s. Credence may not, but Graves will be there to aid him, like Credence has been there to aid himself for these many months.<br/><br/>“How about it, love?” Graves asks Credence and smiles when Credence looks at him. “You willing to put a little faith in magic?”<br/><br/>Credence smiles then and nods. “More than I’ve put faith into anything else,” he says. “Except you. I have faith in you and in magic, Percy. Magic has shown me where I belong and you’ve given me a home in the magic world. I’ve never had more faith in my life for anything else. I’m ready.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles. What can he say to that? What can he do more than have the hope, have the fortitude for this, and the belief that it will work? He owes that to Credence and to himself and when he looks at the Pensieve, he finds he’s more than ready.<br/><br/>“Alright, love,” Graves says and winks at Credence. “I’m ready too.”<br/><br/>Credence beams and steps closer, touching Graves’ arm, safer than anywhere else, lest Graves touch him and he disappear. But he feels Credence’s warmth, feels his fingertips pressed against him, and hopes that, soon, so very soon, he’ll be able to kiss him.<br/><br/>“Very good,” Dumbledore says softly. “Credence, I know that the Obscurus has caused you to lose control of your body. Unfortunately I am going to have to ask you to allow the loss of control of your body once more, if only for a moment, while Director Graves extracts you from his mind. You mustn’t fight it. Do you understand?”<br/><br/>Credence swallows dryly. “Yes, sir,” he says quietly. “I’m not frightened of being in Percy’s hands. He has better intentions for me than the Obscurus did.”<br/><br/>Dumbledore chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says kindly and looks at Graves. “And you, Director Graves? Are you prepared to feel a separation?”<br/><br/>“I plan on going in right after him,” Graves says wryly. “I’ve certainly dived headfirst into worse things.”<br/><br/>“I do believe that makes us all prepared,” Dumbledore says with a smile. “Newt and I will be right here to aid you, should you need it. And do remember, even if you do not retrieve him the first time, he will remain safely here to try again. You will not lose Credence.”<br/><br/>“I don’t plan on needing more than one try,” Graves says with a short smile.<br/><br/>Dumbledore claps his hands together and gestures for Graves to approach the Pensieve, moving out of his way. “Director,” he says. “Credence, I would like for you to take a seat in my chair here.” He gestures at the chair on the other side of the desk. “And do what you can to relax. Know that, if Director Graves is successful, we all might just share a nightcap this evening.”<br/><br/>Credence laughs, albeit uneasily, and moves around to the chair. He sits down and Graves can see he’s trembling, but he tries to relax his shoulders as he looks at Graves. He smiles, a bit wobbly, eyes bright, and nods.<br/><br/>“I love you,” he says.<br/><br/>“I love you too,” Graves says and thinks what he should have thought before.<br/><br/>Hellos are easiest with an <em> I love you </em> after all.<br/><br/>Graves pulls out his wand and looks down at it. It’s been used for things he’ll never tell Credence, by himself and by Grindelwald, but it is his wand all the same. It’s loyalty is still his, firmly, and he trusts his wand, as much as he used to trust himself. He looks at Credence and decides that it’s about time he started trusting himself again.<br/><br/>He smiles and puts the tip of his wand to his temple. “You prepared to get swept off your feet?”<br/><br/>Credence laughs. “I don’t know. You almost dropped me the last time you tried.”<br/><br/>“You are much heavier than you look.”<br/><br/>“Maybe I’ll sweep you off your feet then.”<br/><br/>Graves chuckles. “Just a few minutes, love.”<br/><br/>Credence nods, smiling still, and the trust in his eyes, in Graves, nearly takes his breath away.<br/><br/>He concentrates on Credence before him. All that he is. A living, breathing person, whole and alive, with a heart and a soul and a physical body, waiting to be reclaimed. He resides in Graves’ mind and Graves will give him this, the way he has given Credence love and a home, the way he gave him a future, even if that was disrupted for a time. He’ll give him one again.<br/><br/>Graves grasps onto that, onto Credence, and slowly pulls his wand away from his temple. As the memory is pulled from him, silvery and fragile, Credence begins to glow with the same silver light. He fades slowly then and when the memory has been pulled from Graves’ mind completely, the chair is empty.<br/><br/>He tries not to let that frighten him and carefully deposits the strand on the end of his wand, more white than silver, into the Pensieve. It glows brightly, white and pure, and Graves looks down at it, nothing but light.<br/><br/>“Go after him, Percival,” Newt says. “Bring him home.”<br/><br/>Graves leans down until he feels the world begin to tip, until the floor disappears from beneath him, and he falls into the world of the Pensieve.<br/><br/>He lands as easily on his feet as he’s used to and what has been bright light surrounding him steadily fades into an environment he knows. Graves understands then that this may be his doing, but Credence is tangible and real, not a memory, and what he has stepped into is a mixture of both of their minds.<br/><br/>Graves had seen the remains of the church when he’d been let out of St Lyptus’. But he’d seen it before as well, even if he never stepped inside. He is inside now and he hears a <em> crack </em> above him and looks up. Credence is there, on the landing, younger than he is now, and Mary Lou Barebone stands above him, a belt in her hand.<br/><br/>“Credence,” Graves says firmly. “This is a memory. Let me find <em> you.” </em><br/><br/>The scene shifts, just as Mary Lou is bringing the belt down again, and he is glad to not hear Credence’s anguished cry.<br/><br/>Graves stands in his own apartment but the Graves sitting on his sofa with Credence is not him, he knows. He can see it in the way Grindelwald holds himself, the way he’s touching Credence’s shoulder, not with love but with tight control. He’s murmuring into his ear about finding a troubled child and Credence looks uncomfortable, the way he never was around Graves.<br/><br/>“Another memory,” Graves says. “Our minds go to dark places when we’re lost, love. How about one of mine?”<br/><br/>The scene shifts again and he stands in Central Park in the late afternoon. They’re sitting in the grass in mid June, he remembers, the days growing longer and warmer, pressed arm to arm. Credence is laughing as he looks at Graves, more freely and openly than ever before, joy on his beautiful face.<br/><br/>“We’d made love before this, you remember? You wanted to go for a walk before I took you home for the evening,” Graves says. “I told you I loved you today for the first time.”<br/><br/>It’s on Credence’s face then, a slack-jawed surprise and a blush on his cheeks before he grins.<br/><br/>“I love you too, Percy,” he says, nervous and quiet, but overjoyed all the same.<br/><br/>“I plan on telling you I love you every day,” Graves says. “Let me see you, Credence.”<br/><br/>The scene melts away into a bright light again, into nothingness, for only a moment, before he stands in a New York subway. He feels Credence’s fear here and he understands why as he watches the memory.<br/><br/>The Obscurus attempting to attack Grindelwald, who still wore his face, the roar of it and the destruction of the platform, of Newt shouting Credence’s name, still trying to help him.<br/><br/>“It’s gone, Credence. The Obscurus. Grindelwald is locked in Azkaban. It’s just me and you here, love. It’s just me and you from now on.”<br/><br/>Graves pulls another memory.<br/><br/>He’s standing in his apartment again and there’s more warmth here already and Credence’s fear steadily fades. He sees himself standing in the kitchen with Credence and smiles as he moves closer.<br/><br/>“Our adventures in cooking without magic,” Graves says with a chuckle. “You’d never had pancakes before. Well, good pancakes, that diner you worked at had the worst fucking food in New York.”<br/><br/>“Whisk,” the Graves of his memory says, handing it to Credence, who holds a mixing bowl in front of him.<br/><br/>Credence takes it and puts it in the bowl and whisks, but not in a gentle way, and the cloud of flour and other dry ingredients puffs up from the bowl like a small explosion, leaving neither of them untouched.<br/><br/>Graves smiles as he watches Credence blink a few times, flour on his eyelashes, looking at Graves with a grimace.<br/><br/>“Oops,” he says.<br/><br/>“Oops,” the Graves at his side says flatly as he looks at his black shirt, then at Credence.<br/><br/>Credence is trying not to laugh but when he does, the puff of flour from his lips does them both in, and Graves remembers it’ll take a while yet for pancakes to get made now.<br/><br/>Graves smiles. “Thank Merlin I get to use my wand nowadays,” he says. “And you actually get to eat with me again after this. Take my hand, love, and let’s go home.”<br/><br/>Bright light takes over, for the briefest of seconds, before Graves stands in a familiar diner. There is no one here, the windows are dark, and the only lights on inside are in the kitchen. It’s eerie and Graves knows this is not a memory.<br/><br/>He walks forward and to the counter, circling around it and looking down.<br/><br/>Credence sits there, his knees pulled to his chest, his hands covering his ears, as if some sound he’s hearing is unbearable, and Graves’ heart aches.<br/><br/>“Credence,” he whispers. “Credence, look at me. It’s me, love.”<br/><br/>Credence sniffs, tear tracks on his cheeks, but he steadily lowers his hands and looks up at Graves. He blinks slowly at him, as if in a daze. “I saw you,” he whispers. “I saw you in the cellar. I saw what he did to you.”<br/><br/>Graves kneels in front of Credence and is too afraid to touch him. “I’m sorry, Credence. I suppose we’re a little mixed together in here,” he says softly. “I’m sorry you saw that.”<br/><br/>“How did you survive it?” Credence asks as fresh tears fall.<br/><br/>“By telling myself I was going to get out and see you,” Graves says. “By thinking of your smile every day.”<br/><br/>Credence sniffs and there are more tears as he looks down at his knees. “I thought something had gone wrong,” he whispers. “I didn’t think about your memories being here too. I thought it was real and you couldn’t hear me or see me or feel me. I felt you then, I think, and then I heard you say my name.”<br/><br/>“It just took a little while to find you,” Graves says quietly and his eyes sting, but he thinks he’s shed enough painful tears over the last year. “Take us back to that light, Credence. That light is you.”<br/><br/>Credence looks at Graves, staring at him for a long while before he frowns a little, in concentration.<br/><br/>The diner disappears and white light surrounds them, nothing and everything at once, and Graves smiles, because it feels right. The brief seconds he had felt here had felt like <em> Credence </em> and it’s not hard then, to know this is how he takes them both home.<br/><br/>“Credence,” Graves says and tentatively reaches for Credence’s cheek, but he flinches away. “Shh, shh. You’re not going to disappear.”<br/><br/>“What if I do?” Credence whispers fearfully. “And you can’t find me again?”<br/><br/>“That’s not going to happen,” Graves says with a smile. “I believe that.”<br/><br/>Credence looks at him, his eyes bright and his lower lip wobbling, but he smiles then, faintly, and nods.<br/><br/>Graves moves his hand to Credence’s cheek and when he presses his palm to it, he feels warm skin, damp with tears, but alive, whole, and so very Credence. Credence gasps and moves his hand up to press over Graves’ and the look he gives him then, of shock and hope and love, of relief, will stay with him for the rest of his life.<br/><br/>“Percy,” Credence says and he’s weeping then, but he pushes forward and throws his arms around Graves’ neck, knocking them both flat, but that’s perfectly alright with Graves.<br/><br/>He laughs and wraps his arms around Credence, as real and solid as he’s always been, as he was even when Graves couldn’t touch him. He squeezes Credence tightly and his eyes sting but these are a different type of tears.<br/><br/>Graves moves his hand to Credence’s cheek, until he lifts his head and they look at each other. Graves kisses him then, because it’s been too long, because it’s all he’s wanted to do for nine fucking months, and Credence kisses him back, with just as much force and passion.<br/><br/>They stay like that for a while, in this place Graves doesn’t think he can explain, made of white light that is Credence and their minds together, where they found each other in the middle.<br/><br/>When Graves sits up and holds Credence in his arms, listening to him breathe, feeling his heartbeat under his hand, he noses gently against Credence’s neck. “I want to take you home,” he says quietly. “Let me take you home.”<br/><br/>“Yes, please,” Credence says and chases Graves’ lips, kissing him. “Let’s go home, Percy.”<br/><br/>They stand after that and Graves doesn’t let go of Credence, keeps him wrapped tight in his arms, and smiles. “You ready to be your own person again?”<br/><br/>Credence laughs. “Yes,” he says. “I definitely am.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles and kisses Credence once more before he closes his eyes and pulls them from the Pensieve. He is used to doing it, used to the strange head over heels sensation and the swift return to his own body, standing above the Pensieve.<br/><br/>He is not at all used to someone coming with him, suspects Pensieves were never supposed to be used for this, and Credence is not light, a sudden weight against him that has him staggering back until they fall into a heap on the ground.<br/><br/>“Shit,” Graves curses as his breath is knocked out of him and Credence groans, half on his chest. “Are you alright?”<br/><br/>“I guess you wouldn’t have known you should catch me,” Credence says as he winces and looks up at Graves, untangling their arms.<br/><br/>“It’s good to know if we ever encounter this situation again, I suppose,” Professor Dumbledore’s voice says.<br/><br/>Graves and Credence look up at the man, sitting on the edge of the table next to them, smiling down at them. Newt is next to him and grinning.<br/><br/>“Excellent show, gentlemen,” Dumbledore says and laughs. “Welcome back, Credence.”<br/><br/>“You can see me?” Credence asks hopefully.<br/><br/>“As can I,” Newt says warmly. “Alive and well.”<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence and smiles. Credence is smiling but he is close to crumbling as well, so Graves sits up with him and kisses him, kisses his lips and cheeks and nose, until Credence is laughing. And there may be tears as well, but these tears will always be better than those they experienced before coming to Hogwarts.<br/><br/>They stand and Credence shakes Dumbledore’s hand and Newt’s and thanks them. Graves does the same.<br/><br/>“I don’t know how to repay any of you for this,” Credence says as he wipes his cheeks. His other hand in Graves’ is shaking badly.<br/><br/>Graves squeezes it, but his own is shaking too, and he thinks that when they finally are home, they won’t be letting go of each other for a long time yet.<br/><br/>“You’ll never have to, Credence,” Dumbledore says. “I think it’s safe to say that Director Graves would agree with me when I say your health and happiness are enough of a reward.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles when Credence wrinkles his nose. “I’m afraid Mister Barebone and I both have trouble accepting kindness as only kindness.”<br/><br/>“Ah,” Dumbledore says. “Well then, I suppose I would ask for one thing, if you can stand not rushing off quite yet. The pleasure of your company for a nightcap. Yes, you as well, Newton. Perhaps we may even find enjoyable conversation, if we dare.”<br/><br/>“Alright, but only one,” Newt says. “I do have to Apparate us all back to London.”<br/><br/>They all have more than one in the staffroom, sitting around a lowly lit fire, and there is conversation to be enjoyed, when they avoid the last year of all of their lives, and Graves watches Newt and Credence both fail to pace themselves and fall into giggling fits around the same time. They pass out around the same time too and Graves shakes his head fondly as he tips back another whiskey, his hand on Credence’s thigh. They haven’t stopped touching each other and it feels new again. Like the first time he had the privilege of touching Credence and feeling Credence touch him.<br/><br/>“I truly am sorry for what Gellert has caused all of you,” Dumbledore says after a while of silence, looking at Graves, his smile at odds with his words.<br/><br/>Graves peers at him. “You were close to him?”<br/><br/>“Quite,” Dumbledore says. “For a long while.”<br/><br/>“What changed?”<br/><br/>Dumbledore smiles again and looks at his glass of cherry rum. “We shared an idea,” he says. “And when circumstances changed in my life, we no longer shared that idea. It put a certain separation between us.”<br/><br/>Graves watches him before he reaches forward and grabs the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself another glass. “He’s not staying in Azkaban forever.”<br/><br/>“No,” Dumbledore agrees. “But the Obscurus is gone so his interest in Credence is as well.”<br/><br/>“Doesn’t mean I’ve lost interest in him,” Graves says and takes a drink.<br/><br/>“Worry about Credence rather than vengeance,” Dumbledore says with a smile. “You’ll find far more happiness that way. Gellert’s time will come, as everyone’s does. Perhaps with the blaze of glory he’s always wanted.”<br/><br/>Graves hums as he swirls the whiskey. “Are you prepared for that?”<br/><br/>“I do believe I’m destined to share it with him. And if one does not prepare for their destiny, one may not have all their pieces together by the time they get there.”<br/><br/>“Is that what destiny is? What planning your future is? Making sure you have all your pieces together for the end?”<br/><br/>“Perhaps not for everyone. But not everyone is destined for an end like Gellert’s or my own. For the greater good, it’s always in my best interest to plan ahead.”<br/><br/>Graves smiles and takes another drink as he looks at Credence slumped against the armrest of the sofa next to him. “Sounds like you’ve got it covered,” he says. “I think Credence and I will enjoy a little more spontaneity in our future.”<br/><br/>“Good,” Dumbledore says with a smile. “Grow old with him, if you dare, Director Graves. Do it for those of us who are not so lucky in that matter.”<br/><br/>Graves hums as he watches Credence before he looks at Dumbledore. He lifts his glass and Dumbledore clinks his against it. They drink and there is no more to say then, beyond good nights, and quiet thank yous.<br/><br/>——<br/><br/>When Graves wakes in the morning, he sees castle walls and thin, vertical windows, and blinks slowly as he takes in the fact that it was not all a dream. That when he looks to his right, Credence will be there.<br/><br/>Graves squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment before looking. Credence is curled against his side, enjoying a peaceful sleep, and the warmth of his hand pressed against Graves’ arm is enough to bring tears to his eyes. But he blinks them away and leans in, kissing Credence’s forehead.<br/><br/>He only shifts and mumbles a little and Graves smiles as he gets out of bed to use the restroom, thankfully attached to the room they were so graciously allowed to take for the night.<br/><br/>“Percy?” he hears Credence call groggily and there’s some fear in his voice that Graves hopes he never has to hear again after today.<br/><br/>“Here, Credence,” he says as he walks to the doorway and smiles, holding up a toothbrush. “Just here, sweetheart.”<br/><br/>Credence blinks at him before scrubbing his eyes and it’s not to get rid of sleepiness. “I should do that too,” he mumbles and frowns as he looks around. “I don’t even remember getting in here.”<br/><br/>“You did make it very difficult,” Graves says with a smirk. “I had to float you up three staircases.”<br/><br/>Credence gapes at him before he groans, covering his face with his hands. “Oh, Merlin,” he mutters. “Don’t tell me anymore.” He climbs out of bed, a little wobbly, his hair sticking up in various different directions. “I never want to drink again.”<br/><br/>“You’re not very good at it,” Graves says as he walks back into the bathroom to brush his teeth so he doesn’t stand there staring for the rest of the morning.<br/><br/>Credence walks in and uses the second toothbrush, the result of a thoughtful house elf no doubt, and leans gently against Graves. Graves understands and expects they’ll be leaning on each other for a long while. He rubs Credence’s back until he finishes.<br/><br/>“Come back to bed,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s shoulder before he walks back into the bedroom.<br/><br/>The bedroom is large and removed from common rooms and busy hallways. The bed itself is as comfortable as the one he has at home and Graves lies down and waits for Credence, staring up at the ceiling and marveling at the difference between the last time he’d been able to touch Credence in a bed and now.<br/><br/>Credence hadn’t known he was a wizard and Graves hadn’t known Credence was one either. It was a forbidden relationship, in his mind, something to be hidden from his world and Credence’s own, but they’d managed to build it strong with a genuine love between them all the same.<br/><br/>Now there’s nothing to hide, not from anyone, not ever again.<br/><br/>Graves looks at Credence as he walks out of the bathroom and smiles when he climbs back into bed. He moves on top of Graves, straddling his waist and leans down to kiss him, tasting like mint and something else that Graves has been missing for far too long.<br/><br/>He wraps his arms around Credence and holds him tight. His heart is racing and so is Credence’s, but they cling to each other and if there are tears, they’re tears of relief.<br/><br/>It was a long road to get here, Graves thinks, one he wishes neither of them had to take, but they’ve made it. They’re back in each other’s arms in the most extraordinary of ways and when Credence pulls back, just a little, and Graves looks into his soft brown eyes, he sees the strength in him.<br/><br/>He sees the remarkable man Credence is, special in a way he’ll always deny, but that everyone else can see. And he’s chosen Graves, then and now, and Graves thinks he must be the luckiest man in the world for it.<br/><br/>“I love you,” Graves says as he slides his hand up Credence’s neck and brushes his fingers through his hair.<br/><br/>“I love you too,” Credence whispers and there is no fear in it. Only joy, that lights up his eyes and his smile.<br/><br/>Graves can do nothing more than kiss him then and whisper promises of forever against Credence’s skin.<br/><br/>They’ll go home soon, to Manhattan, to their apartment, to continue their lives in peace. But today, in the castle they found their answers and each other in, they’ll build their foundation stronger.<br/><br/>It never crumbled or cracked, the way Graves feared it had, the way he feared he himself had, because Credence was never truly gone. He’s been at Graves’ side since the day he met him in the diner and Graves knows he always will be, for all their years to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am happy to report that I survived a bone marrow biopsy on Wednesday! It was very scary in the days leading up to it and I think after my body was so tired and blah that I needed to cry it out, so I threw on some Sarah McLachlan and cried through writing the first bit of this fic lmao I feel much better!</p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed this one and I'd love to hear from you! Thank you!</p>
<p>As always, a huge thank you to <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire">Erin</a> for all your encouragement and help! &lt;3</p>
<p>And thank you, Mom, for wanting to read what I write and supporting me as I do!!! &lt;3</p>
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